Out Of Her League, An Erotic Romance by Ava Archer Payne Read Free Book Online Page B

with another. Schooling his features into what he hoped was an approximation of polite interest, he said, “Yes, Vanessa?”
    “What on earth are you looking at? You’ve been staring out that window nearly the entire time I’ve been speaking.”
    He gave a loose shrug. “Dr. Michaelson and his nurse are due any moment. I sent my carriage to the hospital over an hour ago. The rain must have delayed them.”
    She glanced at his ankle, then quickly looked away. For a moment, he almost felt a twinge of pity for her. She had expected James to return a war hero, not a cripple who would only be a burden. Tiny lines of tension settled near the corners of her mouth. “You think this physician will be able to help you?”
    “There seems to be progress.”
    She forced a smile and shifted uncomfortably. “Your mother asked for my help selecting the floral arrangements for her ball,” she said. “I thought deep blue hydrangeas, purple iris, and white rose buds. Or would that be too garish?”
    “I think that would be stunning with your eyes,” he replied dutifully.
    Vanessa, well aware of her beauty, smiled at the praise. James studied her.
    Society deemed them a perfect match. Not only did they share similar physical characteristics—both being above average height, with dark hair and deep blue eyes—they came from similar economic backgrounds and were on par socially. There was no reason why they shouldn’t marry. And yet...
    “I thought it would be striking if we both wore azure,” she said. “An azure jacket for you, and an azure gown for me. Stunning, don’t you think?”
    “As perfectly matched as the dappled grays of my team.”
    “Quite.”
    As the image of the two of them strolling arm-in-arm through his mother’s ball in matching ensembles settled his mind, he couldn’t resist carrying the metaphor of an expensively matched team a step further. “Though when viewed from behind, we might look like a perfect pair of asses.”
    “Really, James.” She scowled at his vulgarity, then suddenly brightened. “Oh! I nearly forgot—I have the most wonderful news!”
    “Oh?”
    “Lord Tashton recently enjoyed a private audience with the queen. He tells me her majesty is developing a medal for the returning heroes of the Crimea. The Victoria Cross. Surely you’ll be recognized.”
    Hero? James thought, swallowing a surge of disgust. What a sham London had become. To fail so spectacularly and be called a hero. He thought of the battle in which he’d been injured. He’d been given an idiotic order, an uphill charge across an open field against an entrenched artillery. Against his better judgement he’d led his men into that hot, smoking hell. Of the one hundred men in his company, only forty had returned.
    Aloud he said, “What a productive use of time. No doubt that will help us win the war. Pinning useless fobs and ribbons on the chests of men no longer able to fight.”
    “Better than no medal at all, I should think. At least your sacrifice will be recognized.”
    Owen, his footman, entered the room, sparing James the necessity of a response. He gave a quick bow and asked, “Shall I set the luncheon table for four, sir?”
    James titled an inquiring brow at Vanessa.
    “You know I don’t eat until after two,” she replied. “And then only one biscuit with my tea.”
    “Ah, yes, I’d forgotten.”
    Had there really been a time when he’d found her delicate appetite charming? Where was her lust for food, lust for adventure, lust for him, for God’s sake? She had breeding, grace, and beauty, all the requisites he’d once thought were important in a wife. He had felt sure that in time he would be able to build a proper fire between them, but now he wasn’t so confident. Or perhaps his appetite had simply changed.
    Vanessa was a spun sugar crystal confection. Lovely to look at, but ultimately hard and brittle. Kate was a luscious bowl of strawberries and cream with sugar on top, earthy and rich, just